Chapter 9 #2
Tilting his head backward, he ran his tongue through her wet crease.
She whimpered and quivered, and he committed the sounds to memory.
He used his thumbs to open her up, and then he feasted.
He licked up and down her delicate folds and around her clitoris.
Imogen’s hips twitched forward and backward, riding his tongue.
He nuzzled her clitoris, sucking it gently into his mouth while one finger probed at her entrance.
“You’re so slick and tight. Do you want my fingers?”
“God, yes,” she sobbed into the blankets. “Please.”
He obliged at once, sliding a second finger inside her swollen channel.
He slowly pumped his fingers back and forth while he licked steadily at her clitoris.
Her breath came in harsh gasps, her legs shaking with effort.
When she tightened around his fingers, her cries of release were a symphony to his ears.
At last, she stilled, and he withdrew his fingers and slid out from underneath her.
He urged Imogen to lie back on the mattress, then knelt between her spread legs. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed, but she smiled up at him. God, her smile. It strengthened him, emboldened him. He finally allowed himself to touch his cock. He was so hard he flinched at the touch.
“It’s your turn now,” she said. “What shall I do?”
“Touch your nipples.” Her hands rose at once, pinching and rolling the buds between her thumb and forefinger. With his free hand, he stroked between her legs again. “That’s it, Genie love. I want to rub my cock on your pussy. Is that all right?”
"Yes, yes.”
He nudged her thighs wider apart, then slid his aching arousal against her center.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he rocked his hips with the utmost concentration.
He dragged his cock through her curls, from top to bottom, and her lips grew slick with fresh arousal.
The head of his cock dragged across her clitoris with each thrust, and her breath quickened once more.
Imogen’s head tossed back and forth on her pillow. “Tommy, I want more. Please, put your cock inside me.”
He shook his head vehemently. “No, I won’t do that to you. You deserve better.”
“Better than you? Nonse—”
Her words choked off when he lifted his cock and tapped it against her clitoris. A groan ripped from her throat at the startling sensation, and he shuddered, nearly delirious from pleasure.
“Come with me,” he grunted, alternating between the rubbing and tapping.
A moment later, Imogen came with a low, keening gasp. His free hand scrambled across the blankets until he found a bit of thin, lacy cloth. With the last of his sanity, he jerked away from Imogen’s silky pussy and spilled into the cloth.
Imogen lifted her arms and beckoned him forward. He crawled over her body and into her embrace, taking care not to put his full weight upon her. Her legs intertwined with his, her toes rubbing his calves, and then she stilled.
“Ouch.”
“Ouch what?”
She lifted her head from the pillow and peered over his shoulder. A gentle smile rose to her cheeks, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything else. She was flushed from pleasure, her movements slow and languid. Cupping his cheek, she said, “Look down.”
He sighed and rolled to his side to do as she asked. His eyes bulged. Black, scuffed boots still adorned his feet. And they were on the bed. Jerking both boots into the air, he rolled to the edge of the mattress. “Damnation,” he hissed, tugging sharply at the laces. “I’ll clean the mess at once.”
Imogen’s stroked his back lightly. “There’s no need, my love. Come back to bed.”
“But there’s dirt—”
“Bed. Now.”
He sent one more tortured look to the specks of dirt dotting the top blanket, and then lowered down into Imogen’s embrace.
She wrapped both arms around him, and he slid his knee between hers until her soft curls brushed against his thigh.
He nuzzled the crevice between her neck and shoulder, greedily inhaling the faint whispers of vanilla and cinnamon.
“You’ve officially driven me to distraction. ”
Her fingers played in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I think it’s sweet.”
He smiled against her skin. “Because I’m the absolute sweetest?”
“Indeed. Cleaning can wait until tomorrow, along with my chemise, which you—ahem—christened.”
“I certainly wasn’t going to spill on you. I’d never disrespect you thusly.”
Her fingers paused. “And if I didn’t mind?”
God, this woman. His exhausted loins tightened at the image. “Then we have something to look forward to.”
She resumed her gentle stroking, and they fell into comfortable silence.
Tommy drifted, lulled by the fire licking at his back and Imogen’s heartbeat under his ear.
They were living a fantasy, one that couldn’t possibly survive beyond the cozy walls.
It didn’t matter that he’d fallen in love with Imogen, or that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
It could never work. Her family would revile him; her peers would mock him.
And he would die a thousand deaths when Imogen started to resent him.
“I love you,” Imogen whispered faintly.
The hopeful, courageous words cracked his heart in two.
He squeezed his eyes tightly against the moisture clouding his vision.
Those three words were the most precious gift she could give him.
He had no doubt she meant it, but he also knew she would regret them soon enough. He had to spare them both the pain.
And so, to his great shame, he pretended not to hear.